Game Night
by Selena Snow
Summary: Crowley threaded their fingers together as they went upstairs. "D'you think they realize what's happening to them?" Aziraphale chuckled, "Doubtful, though I am curious if they'll take six thousand years like we did." A fluffy little one-shot as our favorite ineffable pair watches another one develop. AziraphalexCrowley, GabrielxBeelzebub


**I literally just keep asking my Crowley friend for fanfic ideas whenever I get the urge to write, and this time was a fluffy game suggestion. Enjoy!**

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Gabriel's mouth was in a thin line. "We have to destroy them."

"Agreed," sneered the Prince of Hell at his side.

A principality's baby blue eyes narrowed. "Well now, that's not very sporting of—"

"Can we get back to the game?!" Crowley exclaimed. "Gabriel, it's been your turn for five minutes!"

The archangel glared. "I'm _thinking._"

When the demon let out an impatient hiss, Aziraphale patted his hand. Their weekly game nights often went like this, whether they played monopoly, charades, or checkers. To say the archangel across from them wasn't familiar with Earth games was an understatement, though he often hid the fact by claiming that his long pauses were ones of strategic contemplation.

Beelzebub shifted closer. "Move your pawn," they murmured.

Affronted, Gabriel replied, "No, _you're_ a pawn!"

Crowley smacked a hand to his face. Aziraphale grinned amusedly. How had all this begun again? Ah yes, under their former bosses' pretense of "needing to understand humans better," seeing as how they're going to be around for longer than expected (thanks to Crowley and Aziraphale). Post-almost-apocalypse, there had apparently been some shakeups in the chain of command in both realms. Beelzebub and Gabriel's new stations on Earth seemed to be…well, they would never admit it was punishment, though it was rather obvious.

And yes, somewhere in the back of their minds the old angel-demon pair knew that part of the reason Gabriel and Beelzebub were here was to keep an eye on them. But watching them struggle with simple human concepts like ducks and crepes was worth the trouble, as were the occasional pranks they pulled (Aziraphale would never forget the look on Gabriel's face as he, in Crowley's body, casually downed an entire glass of holy water).

The Prince of Hell rolled their eyes and pointed to one of the many small pieces on the board. "No, you idiot, that'zzzz a pawn!"

"Oh," Gabriel blinked.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, smiling kindly. "Do you need another explanation of how the game works?"

"No, no, I am completely familiar with," Gabriel hesitated. "…_chess._"

"Right," Crowley grunted. The principality at his side struggled to hold in a laugh. He knew his dearest had been waiting to enact his final move for ages now, only for the archangel to continuously evade a checkmate out of sheer dumb luck.

"Just push it to the nexzzzzt square!"

"Why?"

"Because he'zzzz cornering you! Can't you juzzzt trust me?"

"Obviously not, you're a demon!"

Snake eyes twitched. _"Get on with it."_

Finally cracking under the pressure, Gabriel reached toward a random pawn. Before he could, Beelzebub shouted, "Not that one, sixzzz wingzzz!"

Aziraphale watched with amusement as the prince picked up a different pawn, their hand brushing Gabriel's as they did so. The principality felt a nudge and looked to his right. Crowley was giving him a knowing look. Ah, he remembered those days— those moments where they began getting used to small, accidental touches. He also remember the day he wondered if this level of comfort was okay, and if all these touches had been truly accidental at all.

When the pair turned their attention back to the chess board, Aziraphale held in a sigh. Beelzebub was clearly the better player. They had yet again succeeded in helping Gabriel avoid defeat.

Crowley hummed in thought. Aziraphale leaned over. "Your bishop—"

"Mmnah, can't," Crowley said.

The principality looked closer, then nodded. "Ah, I hadn't noticed the queen."

Beelzebub grinned smugly. Gabriel copied their look, as though yes, that had been the plan all along.

After a few seconds of stifling silence, Crowley moved his knight.

"Great," the prince groaned.

Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed. "Why did it move like that? That's not legal, is it?"

"Oh no, I'm afraid it is," Aziraphale replied with faux sympathy.

The archangel grasped at his hair frustratedly. "I don't—"

"Let me," Beelzebub cut in. They moved a castle with ease. Aziraphale hummed in appreciation, vaguely wondered if there was something in a demon's DNA that gave them a better understanding of chess than angels. They were of the same stock, of course, but demons were more naturally given to scheming.

The thought made Aziraphale recall several Christmases ago when Crowley set up mistletoe in the shop and insisted that if he didn't allow a kiss, well then, that's basically a sin according to human tradition (like the principality would have denied him anyway— and seeing his blown out serpent eyes after he planted a kiss on his cheek was well worth the stammering and blushing that came before it).

Wasting no time at all, Crowley pushed his king out of the way. Beelzebub countered with a knight. Crowley gave a testy growl as he blocked them with his queen. Beelzebub put a hand up to their mouth in thought, and for some reason, both angels had a celestial stroke of genius at the same time.

Aziraphale gasped, "No—!"

But it was too late. Gabriel grabbed a bishop and slid it down the board, triumphantly knocking over the king.

"We won!" their former bosses cried in unison.

Crowley's mouth dropped open. The principality rubbed his back soothingly. It was rare for his demon to lose, and Aziraphale knew he'd be sure to ask for a rematch next week.

Beelzebub and Gabriel were still laughing victoriously. They were beside themselves, grinning widely and looking like they were about to fall out of their chairs. Then black eyes met violet, realization sparking between them. The two otherworldly beings sobered up remarkably quick, suddenly seeming to want nothing more than to not be near the other.

Aziraphale grinned. He remembered those days, too. The days where they felt awkward and guilty about enjoying each other's company so much. The days where "you" and "I" slowly became "we." He was incredibly grateful that those days were behind them.

"Right, well," Gabriel coughed.

Beelzebub stood up from the table and made for the door, rigidness in every step. A small frown came onto the archangel's face. It deepened when the front door of Aziraphale and Crowley's cottage slammed shut.

"Someone's a sore winner," Crowley grumbled.

The comment snapped Gabriel back to reality. He jolted from the table, stammering, "I, well, I should go see if—" he stopped himself, turning stern. "We will return next week."

Aziraphale nodded cordially. "Travel safe." The demon made some sort of indistinguishable noise of farewell.

The archangel wasted no time in exiting the house to presumably go chase down the Prince of Hell. The angel and demon stood from their dining room table and stretched.

"Well, that was nice," Aziraphale said.

"You didn't get beaten by an _idiot._"

The principality tutted as he packed up the board. "Beginner's luck, my dear. I know how good you are at chess."

"Not good enough," Crowley grunted.

Blue eyes rolled. "You're being dramatic again."

"Demons are not dramatic!"

"Mmhm."

Huffing loudly, Crowley stomped off to the kitchen, leaving a chuckling Aziraphale behind. The demon came back moments later with a winged mug of tea. The angel tapped his nose adoringly in a thank you.

Once the tea was drunk and the board game stowed away, it was time to retire for the evening. Crowley threaded their fingers together as they went upstairs. "D'you think they realize what's happening to them?"

Aziraphale chuckled, "Doubtful, though I am curious if they'll take six thousand years like we did."

"My bet is longer. Your old boss is too much of a dud to notice."

"Mm, I think he's more in denial than anything."

"Do all angels go through that when falling for demons?"

A light slap on the arm served as retribution for the smart remark. Crowley only grinned more. He knew Aziraphale always hated it when he teased him about how long it took him to come around.

But look at them now, entering their bedroom. With a snap, both of them were in silken pajamas— ivory and black, respectively. Aziraphale settled on his side of the bed, sitting upright. A book on ornithology appeared in his hands. Crowley got in beside him, set the covers just so, and then wrapped his arms around the angel's waist, snuggling his head into his lap. A gentle hand began smoothing down red locks, and golden eyes fluttered closed.

"Sleep well, dearest."

"Mm, goodnight."

Little did they know that just a mile down the road at the bus stop, an archangel was awkwardly apologizing for whatever he must have done and a Prince of Hell was thinking it was weirdly…cute.

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**And of course because it's me, I couldn't help but put some slight angst in there between Gabe and Beelz. Please leave a review!**


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